


An alpha's instinct

by LittleRedbirdMcCall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring Liam Dunbar, First Kiss, Gen, Hurt Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), M/M, Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Protective Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Saves the Day, Sharing Clothes, Stiles Stilinski Loves Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski is Scott McCall's Anchor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedbirdMcCall/pseuds/LittleRedbirdMcCall
Summary: His legs finally give out and he sinks to his knees, that tightness in his chest returning full force. Hands grab onto both of his arms and shoulders, and he's vaguely aware of Stiles and Liam now on either side of him. Their frantic voices are too quiet for him to be able to understand what they're saying as he lowers his head. He stares down at his hands as he presses one of them to his stomach.





	An alpha's instinct

The preserve has always felt eerie and full of life, things lurking in the shadows, but never like this. Right now, Scott's more than aware of the things hiding from them, waiting for the right moment to pounce, their feet light on the ground. This isn't like the usual creatures they're used to — they're faster, smarter.

He stops dead in his tracks, whipping around as the sound of roaring catches his ears. They're close. He thought he was still on their trail, that he had managed to lead them away from Stiles and Liam. As far as he could see before, there's only one of whatever they are, but he's not certain, and he'd really rather not risk finding out through assumption. 

He quickly turns back, keeping his hearing focused in on the sound of Stiles' shouting and Liam's growling as he tracks the scent of the creature. It's definitely not one that's hard to miss, but they seem to be able to make it come from everywhere, so he's taking some sort of evolved werewolf as a guess.

Everything turns red as he darts through the woods, dodging past trees and branches that threaten to trip him up, his own heart pounding away in his ears, urging him to push harder, move faster, to hurry up and get to them before—

A blur on his left catches the corner of his eye. He swings around just in time, reaching out and grabbing the creature before they can go crashing into one of the trees. His claws dig into what he thinks is some sort of skin, but it's harder and a lot thicker, cover in a layer of fur. 

They make a noise like they're trying to bite at him as he slams them into the ground, his own lips pulling back in a snarl, eyes glowing bright red. 

"Why are you here?" he asks, holding their stare as he tries to keep tuned in to what's happening somewhere else in the preserve, the sound of struggling still just as strong. 

"Hale," is all they spit out. 

Scott has to refrain from cursing them out loud. Instead, he groans quietly, closing his eyes for a second. Of course this has something to do with them. He and Stiles had three guesses between them: the Argents; Scott because of the whole True Alpha thing; or the Hales. Of course it would be the more complicated one.

"The Hales aren't here anymore," Scott answers, deciding upon being at least mostly honest. "They left. And I'd appreciate it if you could do the same." He snarls again, baring his fangs. "Before someone gets hurt."

"Liar." The creature that's beginning to look a lot more like something out of a book he saw in Stiles' room struggles more in his grip, leaning up closer to him. "Derek Hale, his sister. Peter. They're here, and nothing is going to stop us from—"   

"Us?" Scott cuts them off, his eyes widening. 

He was right. That's only confirmed as the creature makes a noise resembling a laugh but it's all wrong and sounds almost like a wheezing cough. They just smirk up at him, one of their hands wrapping tightly around Scott's wrist. 

"You really thought we'd come alone? After everything the Hales have done?" 

Scott clenches his jaw, his mind racing. He needs to get to Stiles and Liam. From the sounds of it, they're handling whatever's going on pretty well for now, but he knows that Stiles doesn't even have his bat on him and Liam's barely used to fighting without supernatural backup. There's only so long they'll be able to fight off whatever this is. That's assuming there's only one more here. 

But to be able to help, to figure out how to get rid of them, he needs to know what exactly Peter or Derek did to rile them up this badly. It would just be a lot more helpful if Derek could hurry up and get here. He howled for back up ten minutes ago and still no response or sign of any of the pack.

Scott realizes a second too late that he took his attention off the creature for just a moment too long. He gets flipped, everything around him turning blurry as he's lifted off his feet. The air gets knocked out of his lungs as his back hits what he has to assume is a tree, fingers wrapping around his throat and squeezing just enough to remind him how much he hated having asthma. 

"So, I'm going to ask nicely, seeing as how you stopped for a chat instead of taking my head off." They lean closer as Scott grabs at their hand, his claws uselessly scraping at skin that doesn't even seem to bleed as he glares at them, holding their stare. "Where are the Hales?"

Scott growls, tilting his head up enough to properly speak. "If you're here for the Hales, then why attack me? Why come after my pack? Peter and Cora don't care about us. In fact, you'd probably be doing the both of them a favour by killing us." 

"But Derek cares," the creature quickly counters, "doesn't he? He is part of your pack, is he not?" 

Scott stays quiet this time. He can feel his eyes flickering back to their normal colour, weakening slightly, the burning in his lungs and the tightness in his chest getting worse. This shouldn't be happening, he's usually stronger than this.

"You're loyal," they murmur, eyes narrowing, searching Scott for something. "Shame the same can't be said for him and his family. See, the Hales betrayed us. Lead hunters straight to us after stealing from us, after we welcomed them. And then," they laugh again, tilting their head, "Peter Hale even has the nerve to kill one of us. Our... Alpha, of sorts."

That doesn't surprise Scott in the slightest, although he really did think that Peter was getting better, that he was past that point in his life. He should have known better. Peter's never going to change, not even for Malia and Cora like he said he would. Now his mistakes are coming back to bite Scott. Literally.

"You're here for revenge?" Scott manages to get out. "You think that hurting me and my pack will get back at the Hales? That it'll hurt them? Because, trust me, it won't. And my friends — the ones here right now — they're innocent. They haven't done anything to you, so just — let them go, okay? We can sort this out."

"Just tell me where the Hales are then," they say as Scott's chest tightens even more. "No one will get hurt if you just tell me. Or even better, bring them here. You're an Alpha, right? You can call Derek here. One Hale's good enough for now."

"Then come get me."

Scott's eyes widen and suddenly the creature's being pulled off of him and thrown through the air. They hit the ground and roll, crashing into one of the trees across from him. They don't make a move to get up.

He looks at Derek, his eyebrows raising as he turns back to him. 

"Go," Derek says, almost urgently, gesturing his head towards the sounds echoing throughout the preserve. "I've got this. You get to them and get them out of here as fast as you can, okay?"

Scott doesn't even question him, just nods, trusting him. Then he's taking off, ignoring the dull aching in his chest. It'll pass, but if Stiles or Liam gets hurt, it'll be a lot worse for them. He pushes himself faster, tracking the other two heartbeats, the familiar scents. 

It only takes a few seconds before he finds them and stops dead in his tracks. His stomach twists and swoops at the sight of yet another one of the creatures, their back turned to him as they move closer and closer to Liam. Liam doesn't even step back, just squares his shoulders and growls, his eyes bright gold and claws ready to take a swipe at them. 

Scott's eyes dart around, already searching for Stiles, a momentary surge of panic shooting through him at not being able to see him. The sound of a twisted sort of howl drags his attention straight back to Liam and the creature before he can find him.

Liam catches his eye, and the nod he sends him is telling him that he has everything handled, but Scott saw the look on Derek's face, could smell the panic coming off of him. He's learned from past experience that if Derek's scared of something, they probably all should be. 

He goes to move, to take the creature's attention off of Liam and tell him to run and get help, but then there's more movement out of the corner of his eye and for a split second, he prepares himself to have to take on another one of them.

His eyes snap to Stiles and widen. The stab of relief he gets at seeing he's okay is quickly replaced by another, stronger surge of panic when he realizes he's heading right for Liam. Right into the creature's line of target.

Scott watches him step in front of Liam at the exact moment they pull their hand back, raising it high into the air, claws clear as day, longer and sharper than any others Scott's seen on anything else before. 

"No!" The word slips out without him even registering it's him that shouts it.

He doesn't think, just acts, relying on the only instincts driving him right now which are to protect his pack, to protect Stiles and Liam. He thinks he hears Liam shout the same thing, thinks that he tries to push Stiles behind him, tries to get in front of him, get the creature away from him.

Stiles stays firmly in place, then his eyes widen when Scott's the one pushing him back. He knocks back into Liam and they both go falling backward, landing on the ground, just a little away from Scott.

It costs Scott the second to turn back around and grab the creature's arm to stop them completely. The tightness in his chest doubles by a million, shooting through the rest of his limbs as the claws slash across his chest, down his stomach, digging in deep and tearing any clothing, any skin in their way. They remove their claws almost right away, but it only lasts for a split second, too fast for Scott to take the opportunity before pain's shooting through his entire body and the claws are being forced back into his skin.

His lungs burn and he's pretty sure his throat closes up completely as he tries to breathe, one of his hands wrapping tightly around the creature's wrist. They only push them deeper, giving a little twist as Scott looks up at them, meeting their satisfied eyes and smirk with a glare. 

"Liam, run," he says through his teeth, "take Stiles and run." 

"How sweet," they say before Liam can respond to him. "An Alpha protecting his pack. You know, if your friends just told us where the Hales were, this could have ended a lot sooner. It's a shame that now they're going to have to watch you die for them." 

Scott's aware of Stiles and Liam both hurrying to get up, and he can tell just from the chemo-signals coming off of the both of them what they're going to do next. He's almost glad when the creature turns their eyes on the both of them. 

"Don't even think about it," they say. They twist their hand again, just a little to the side, but it's enough and Scott groans quietly, gripping their wrist tighter. "Unless you want me to drag this out. You want to watch your Alpha suffer, see him begging for his life? Or would you rather I let him live long enough to watch me kill the two of you?"

Something snaps in Scott at hearing them threaten Stiles and Liam, the promise that they'll be next, no matter what they do. He lifts his head, doing his best to push through the pain. He's been through worse, he reminds himself, and his claws finally dig into their wrist, a little bit of his strength returning. Just enough for him to be able to breathe without it feeling like a million shards of glass have been embedded in his lungs and for him to push himself up.

"It won't be me that's begging for my life if you hurt either of them," he warns, their eyes moving back to meet his with a glint of something close to amusement. "So maybe you should go and help your own pack. Last I saw, Derek Hale was having a nice little chat with one of them, and from what I've heard, you don't get along that well." 

The creature's amusement slips and seems to turn into something else, something almost like fear. Scott wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, just how bad the whole situation between them and Derek and Peter really was. 

His head snaps up along with the creature's as a familiar howl echoes throughout the preserve. He can feel his eyes burn completely red rather than flickering between that and his normal colour, and it sends a surge of adrenaline through him.

The moment that the creature turns back to him with wide eyes, Scott howls right back, even though it feels like there's no possible way for the sound to get out, even though everything's becoming blurrier and his head's becoming heavier with each second. He howls and hopes with his life that it works.

The last of his energy drains away completely, leaving him only being held up by the creature's claws. As soon as he goes quiet though, they only hesitate for a second, and then they're taking off, only a blur to Scott's already unfocused eyes. 

He stays upright for a second, swaying slightly as everything's quiet. He can't even hear Stiles or Liam moving, their heartbeat's barely registering in his ears as he blinks, trying to listen for Derek or signs of fighting. 

His legs finally give out and he sinks to his knees, that tightness in his chest returning full force. Hands grab onto both of his arms and shoulders, and he's vaguely aware of Stiles and Liam now on either side of him. Their frantic voices are too quiet for him to be able to understand what they're saying as he lowers his head. He stares down at his hands as he presses one of them to his stomach. 

When he pulls it away, it's predictably covered in blood. His eyes flicker for a second before completely fading back to normal, any trace of red completely gone as his heartbeat bounces around inside his head. It's fast, but sort of... not. Maybe it's too fast, he can't tell. 

Then there's a hand on the side of his face, moving it to get him to look up. Stiles' eyes are moving back and forth, wide and panicked in a way that Scott's too familiar with by now. His mouth's moving too and Scott has to take a second before he's able to actually hear him or make out a word that he's saying. 

"Stay with us, Scotty, okay?" he says. "Just — just stay with us. Don't close your eyes, focus on me. You're gonna heal, buddy, you're gonna — just keep looking at me. Listen to my voice, yeah? Scott, can you hear me?" 

Scott gives a little nod, but it makes everything spin and his head tilt like it's too heavy to stay up on its own. "I'm okay," he tries to assure him. "I'll heal." 

"Yeah," Stiles agrees, nodding a little too much. He swallows. "Yeah, that's right. You're gonna be okay. Just stay with us. Liam's gone to find Derek, and they'll be back real soon, so just don't — don't pass out on me or anything. Keep listening to me, yeah? You've had years of practice with that, am I right? I never exactly shut up, so it shouldn't be that hard." 

Scott wants to laugh at that and agree with him but even the thought of attempting it reminds him what having an asthma attack is like. Except now, it's more like he doesn't have lungs at all and his throat just isn't supposed to open.

His gaze drifts to the ground as his head starts to drop. He tries his best to keep listening to Stiles, knowing he's still rambling on, even thinks he can smell the panic coming off of him. For a second, it's not so hard. Now that he's thinking about it, it really doesn't hurt that much. 

Then the little dots dancing in front of his eyes get bigger and everything turns fuzzy, fading away. Letting the tension and the effort it's taking to keep himself upright slip away, Scott leans into Stiles, his head falling somewhere near his shoulder. He almost thinks he hears him shouting something a second before everything goes quiet again and fades completely. 

* * *

 

Stiles’ eyes widen and he grips Scott’s hand a little tighter as he slumps into him, his head on his shoulder. “Scott? Scotty?” His stomach turns and a wave of nausea hits him as he quickly moves one of his hands back up to Scott’s face, trying to get him to look up. “No, no, no. Come on, you have to stay with me, Scott.”

He doesn’t seem to be listening anymore. Stiles’ eyes dart down to the slash marks covering his chest and stomach. Still bleeding means not healing, and he’s pretty sure that the blood that’s slowly pooling underneath Scott is a sign that he’s very much still bleeding.

“Liam!” Stiles shouts, hoping that he didn’t go too far, that he can still hear him from wherever he is in the preserve now. He glances down at Scott again as best he can and clenches his jaw. He tries to blink back the burning in the back of his eyes. “Derek! Liam!"

His own voice practically bounces off the trees around them, and he waits, straining his ears for something, any sort of response, preferably in the form of someone who can actually help before he decides to try and haul an unconscious werewolf all the way back to the clinic on his own. He’s met with silence. Not even a howl or anything.

“Come on, Liam,” he mutters under his breath, already turning his attention back to Scott. 

He tries to keep him propped up as best he can but he's slumped completely into him at this point, his face half-hidden by Stiles' shirt. Stiles tries to ignore how much of Scott's blood he's already covered in, one of his hands still holding the one Scott had pressed against his wounds as if to check if they were real.

A few more seconds pass with Stiles becoming increasingly more and more frustrated and absolutely terrified, his throat already sore from continuously shouting for Liam and Derek. He risks another glance at Scott's wounds to see if they're healing yet. Maybe they look worse than they actually are. 

The sight of them makes him light-headed and he quickly looks away again. Definitely not healing. 

Stiles closes his eyes, groaning quietly through clenched teeth. "Screw it." 

He quickly lets go of Scott's hand, faltering for a second as he tries to figure out the best way to pick up an unconscious werewolf who's currently bleeding out. Then he manages to prop him up enough to hook one of his arms underneath his legs, the other already moving down from where it had been behind his shoulders.

Stiles thanks the universe that he doesn't have the upper body strength of a ten-year-old and has had the experience of holding a werewolf up for hours on end as he goes to lift Scott, to try and get him back to his jeep that he's really wishing he could remember where he parked as quickly as possible. 

"We're here! We're here!" 

Stiles is the one nearly slumping out of relief now at the sound of Liam's voice, apologetic and slightly out of breath. He looks up at him and Derek as the both of them appear beside them. It's obvious they're both only just now noticing how badly Scott's hurt, Liam's face paling dramatically and Derek's face taking on a look of panic and fear that Stiles is pretty sure he's never seen on him before.

"A little help here?" Stiles says, urgently, snapping them both back to reality as he gestures his head at Scott's limp, unconscious form. "Human carrying werewolf isn't exactly bound for great odds." 

Derek's already crouching down on Scott's other side before Stiles is done talking, nodding his head for him to let him take him. Despite asking for his help, Stiles hesitates for just a split second, just enough for Derek to meet his eyes. He raises his eyebrows then seems to click.

"It's okay, give him to me," Derek says, his voice surprisingly calm and assuring. "He'll be alright."

For once in his life, Stiles forces himself to trust Derek. 

He lets him slip his arms underneath Scott as he carefully lets go of him, a tug in his stomach telling him that he shouldn't have. He ignores it, knowing that this is their best, and frankly, only option right now. Scott's already lost too much blood for someone who's supposed to have supernatural healing.

Derek straightens up, Scott held easily in his arms, and Stiles follows. He notices the slight shake in his legs but just brushes it off, his eyes darting back to Scott's face as he bites his lip. That burning in the back of his eyes only gets worse. 

"I'll take him to the clinic," Derek says, as Stiles tries to blink it away and fails, his vision slightly blurry.

Even so, his eyes snap up to Derek, already about to protest and insist on driving them there. Derek obviously notices.

"It'll be quicker that way," he adds. "We can't exactly afford to get stopped by one your dad's deputies because you went over the speed limit or ran a red light. I can get him there in minutes, and by the looks of it, that's all we might have with the rate he's bleeding out at." 

There's a stab in Stiles' stomach at that and he thinks he might actually throw up as he accidentally glances at Scott's wounds as if subconsciously checking to see if he's right. He knows he is, which is why he gives a shaky nod of agreement.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, you're right," he says, looking back up at Derek. "I'll, uh... I'll meet you guys there then." He nods his head in the direction that he thinks they came from originally. "Go. The faster you get there, the more chance we have of..." 

He doesn't finish, but he knows he doesn't need to. Derek and Liam exchange a look that says they understand perfectly and are just as worried as he is about it. 

Derek simply gives one last nod, then he's gone, and Liam follows, leaving Stiles in the middle of the preserve. 

He heads for his jeep — or at least, where he thinks he left it. Thankfully, he's right and finds it a lot easier than he was expecting, climbing into it as fast as possible and getting it started up. For not the first time in his life, he curses the fact that he doesn't have super speed to be able to get to the clinic in seconds and has to rely on his jeep, the most unreliable vehicle he's ever come across.

That's why he's so surprised when it starts up without a problem. He goes to start driving, get away from the preserve as fast as possible. Even if Derek said they couldn't afford to get stopped with Scott in the jeep, that doesn't mean Stiles isn't going to break pretty much every speeding law he can if it means getting to Scott faster. 

His eyes land on his hands gripping the steering wheel and he pauses. For a moment, he actually managed to forget they're covered in blood. Scott's blood. 

He clenches his jaw and forces his eyes away from them, staring out through the windscreen as he sucks in a breath. His nails dig into the thick material of the wheel as he lets it back out, his vision blurring again. A few tears slip down his cheeks to join the ones he's sure has already escaped. 

"Not now,"  he mutters to himself, all too aware of his heart beating too fast in his chest. "You are not having a panic attack right now, okay? You're driving, Stiles. Driving, not panicking." 

Telling himself that doesn't really do much to help, even though it's sometimes worked before in the past. He just takes another deep breath, in and out, hoping that his heart will calm down enough for him to be able to think properly, to clear his head enough to drive. 

He closes his eyes and forces himself to relax his grip on the wheel. "Scott's going to be okay. He heals. He always heals." 

He continues to repeat that to himself, even once he's reopened his eyes and he's got himself under control enough to be able to actually reverse away from the preserve then start driving in the direction of the clinic as fast as possible. 

Sure enough, he goes over the speed limit by... a lot. It's just a good thing that there doesn't appear to be any of his dad's deputies around to catch him, especially when he goes through at least two red lights. The longer he drives, the more impatient he gets. He was sure that the drive from the clinic to the preserve wasn't that long, barely ten minutes if his memory serves him correctly from all the times he's done it. 

Just as he wonders if he should call Liam to check what's going on, knowing they'll already be there by now, he spots the sign for the clinic up ahead. He sighs with relief and quickly pulls into the parking lot around the back of the building like he's done so many times before. 

For once, he would like to be showing up at the clinic to pick Scott up from work or something ordinary like that instead of because someone's dying or they need supernatural help. 

As soon as he's turned the jeep off, he's climbing out of it, barely managing to stop himself from tumbling straight onto the ground. He's rushing for the back door before he's even fully closed the door to his jeep, his heart now beating a lot faster than it was on the road. 

He pulls the doors open and turns the corner taking him into the exam room that he's really beginning to think is mainly used for supernatural events and pack meetings at this point. 

He stops in his tracks, having to take a second when he spots Scott right away, laying on the table in the middle of the room with his shirt somewhere on one of the counters nearby. He's still very much unconscious by the looks of it. Derek and Liam are standing on one side of him, Deaton on the other, clearly having just stopped in the middle of talking. 

All of their eyes are on Stiles and he quickly composes himself as best he can. He swallows and looks up at them all, now moving over to join them. 

"So what's going on?" he asks. "Is — Is he healing yet? Or is it like that time when we had to stitch him up first? Well, Allison had to stitch him up but you get the point. Is that what we need to do now as well or — or is there like some magical druid thing that you can give him to fix him up faster? Is that possible?"

The look on Deaton's face when he glances at him, pausing for a second or three, is one that Stiles is very familiar with by now, having seen it on the face of every person who worries when he starts talking too fast or saying things that don't make sense. He chooses to ignore it. 

"Uh, no," Deaton says after another second passes. He straightens up a little bit and seems to slip back into doctor mode, waving a hand at Scott. "As you can see, the bleeding's stopped. We had to clean the wounds up a bit first, seeing as how it appears that whatever attacked him somehow managed to lodge a part of their claws inside of him and leave them there, which I have to admit, is odd."

Stiles' eyebrows furrow, glancing at Scott's wounds as if he'll be able to see what he's talking about. He's glad to notice that Deaton's right though. He's definitely stopped bleeding, which means healing. Healing's good. 

"They were..." Derek sighs as they all look up at him, "a form of werewolves, I guess you could say. I don't remember much about them, but Peter's told me about how their preferred method of torture is doing this sort of thing. Apparently it's connected to one of their supernatural abilities."

"For someone who doesn't remember much about them, they sure seemed to know you," Stiles can't help but say, coming out a little more snappish and harsh than he meant it to. Still, he continues. "I mean, it's not like they said the only reason they're even in Beacon Hills is for the Hales, which — oh yeah, would be you and your psychotic uncle. How's he doing by the way? Hiding and leaving us to deal with your family's mess? Sounds about right." 

Derek glances at him, then he looks down at Scott.

A part of Stiles can't help but be a little bit surprised by the look of guilt on his face, and how he doesn't shoot some irritated response back at him for putting the blame on him when they both know that Stiles doesn't really blame him. He just needs something to focus on and he doesn't want it to be Scott's unconscious body or the fear he's been pushing down since he watched that creature practically claw him open and threaten to kill him.

There's a pause, thick with a tension that Stiles hates. Then Liam's the one speaking, obviously worried as he glances from Scott to Deaton. 

"I don't understand how they even managed to hurt him," he says, his eyebrows furrowing, gesturing vaguely at Scott, "we've literally seen him take on the Beast of Gevaudan, hellhounds, chimeras, hunters, and yet still come out of it alright. And conscious. So—" he gestures again at Scott, looking to Deaton for an answer, "what's going on?" 

"Unfortunately, I can't answer that," Deaton says, shaking his head. His eyes dart down to Scott before he explains. "The description's you've given me don't sound familiar, so I don't even know what we're dealing with, not to mention what they can do. For all we know, they could be the one species that can hurt a True Alpha." 

Stiles scoffs and says, "oh that's great. Absolutely spectacular."

They all ignore him as Deaton continues. "From what I can tell, the longer they had their claws inside of him, the longer they were in a certain way of contact with him, the weaker it made him. Almost like they were draining him of his powers in a way. In fact..." A look of concern crosses his face, mixed with a touch of relief. "I think Scott being a True Alpha is the only thing that stopped him from losing his powers completely. Had he still been a beta, or stolen his powers from another Alpha, this would be an entirely different situation."

"So," Stiles straightens up, his eyes narrowing, "basically what you're saying is that we're dealing with possibly an entire pack of creatures that could steal the powers of every werewolf in Beacon Hills, maybe even including Malia and Kira, because we know virtually nothing about these guys or what else they can do?" 

There's another pause as Deaton gives them all a look that pretty much answers the question for him. Stiles huffs out a humourless laugh as he turns away slightly, shaking his head, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand.

"We can worry about that later," Derek decides, and turns his eyes on Deaton, raising his eyebrows. "You're sure Scott's going to be okay?"

Stiles can't help but turn back slightly to look at Deaton for an answer as well, his chest tightening as he chews on his lip. 

He hesitates, glancing around at them all. "Yes, he's going to be okay." Stiles is about to let the relief wash over him when Deaton quickly presses on and the tension remains in his shoulders. "But we do still have one or two problems to deal with once he wakes up. For instance — he'll be weaker than usual for a good few hours, a day at most. It's why whoever attacked him was able to injure him so severely and why he fell unconscious in the first place."

He seems almost confused as his eyes move back to the claw marks across Scott's body. "What they did to him made it harder for him to fight back, for him to heal. But no werewolf or supernatural creature that I've ever come across has been able to do that. Other than the chimera created by the Dread Doctors, who, as far as I'm aware, is long gone, as are his talons."

"But Scott's going to be okay?" Stiles repeats Liam's question, ignoring the rest. It can all wait until Scott's conscious.

Deaton hesitates again as if wanting to push his point about Scott being weaker, or about the creature, or whatever else it was going he was going to say. But he doesn't, instead, nodding once more. 

"Yes. He's absolutely going to be okay. He'll need some rest, but then things should go back to normal. Just so long as he doesn't overexert himself for a few hours after he's conscious again, and doesn't get into any other fights. Supernatural or otherwise."

Stiles does let the relief wash over him now as he exhales, closing his eyes for a brief second before they fly back open as something else hits him. "Oh, I should have called Lydia. And Allison." His hands hover just above his head, having been about to rub them over his face when he remembers the blood. "I totally forgot, I should have called on the way over, they should — they need to know what's happening, they need to—" 

"I already called them," Liam cuts him off. He tilts his head, thinking about it, then corrects himself. "Well, I called Mason, who apparently was already with Lydia and Kira, so they sort of found out at the same time. The point is that they know and I think they're on their way? At least some of them anyway. I think the others are trying to come up with a plan or something."

"I'll give Isaac a call to be sure," Derek says, already uncrossing his arms and getting the phone that Stiles didn't even know he had out of his pocket. 

Stiles just gives a slight nod, almost trying to silently thank him, but it's half-hearted as his eyes stay fixed on Scott. He starts biting at one of his nails that are surprisingly not covered in blood without even really being conscious of it. He's vaguely aware of Derek leaving the room, probably heading into the reception area to make the call. 

The room goes quiet once more, but Stiles doesn't really notice. His head's buzzing, making it hard to think about anything other than Scott and what's going to happen when he wakes up. When, because he's definitely waking up.

His eyes have started stinging again just as Liam's voice cuts through his thoughts, dragging his attention to him.

"We should probably go and help the others come up with a plan for finding whoever it was that attacked us," he says, then quickly adds, "but someone should stay here with Scott. For when he wakes up."

Stiles drops his arm, crossing it underneath his other one. "I'm staying." 

Liam and Deaton both look at him and he's almost expecting them to argue. He knows that, logically, he'd be a lot more useful for helping come up with a plan while Liam or Derek stays to keep an eye on Scott, but he's not thinking about logic right now.

"Look, I'm not going anywhere," he continues, shaking his head, even though no one's actually tried to protest. "Not until Scott's awake, not until I'm sure he's okay and he's sitting up in front of me and can walk, alright? So, there's no point in trying to change my mind." His eyes drift back down to Scott and his stomach twists. He swallows, and in a quieter voice, adds, "I'm not leaving him." 

He glances up at Liam and Deaton, raising his eyebrows as he waits for either of them to respond. They exchange a look, their own eyebrows raising for a second before Liam turns back to Stiles and nods. 

"Yeah, okay, that works," he says. "It's better if you stay anyway. Since I need to go help Mason with research and stuff, so... yeah. I'll just, uh..." He points in the direction that Derek went in. "Okay." 

With one last look at Scott, Liam follows after Derek, leaving Stiles and Deaton in the exam room. The bell on the door rings, signalling that Liam's gone. Judging by the lack of voices, Stiles guesses Derek decided to go with him. 

He takes a breath in, his chest weirdly tight and uncomfortable the more he watches Scott's chest rising and falling so slowly that he might as well not be breathing at all. His eyes dart around the room before landing on one of the chairs sitting against the wall.

Deaton eyes him silently as he moves around the table to get the chair. As he pulls it closer to the table, positioning it so that it's by Scott's head, Deaton starts to speak. 

"It could be a while before he wakes up," he tells him as if trying to tell him to relax. To not get his hopes up if Scott doesn't wake up in ten minutes. He must really be letting his anxiety show. When he doesn't respond, just nods again to let him know he heard him, Deaton sighs. "Alright, well, I have clients to attend to in the other rooms. If you or Scott, or anyone else needs anything, I'll be with the animals."

That's all he says before doing the same as Liam and Derek and leaving the room, presumably heading into one of the holding rooms to check on some sick animals. Stiles just takes a seat in the chair, leaning back and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible as he quickly goes back to biting at the same nail as before.

"Just you and me now, Scotty," he says quietly, watching him remain unconscious, his lips parted only enough to get air in and out. "Now all you've got to do is wake up. As much fun as it is to not be told I'm talking too much, I sort of already miss hearing your excuses to shut me up. Even if it means that you cut me off while I'm talking about Star Wars, which I still can't believe you've done on more than one occasion. Maybe you would actually watch the movies if you let me finish explaining them half the time."

He forces a light laugh at his own words, thoughts of finally getting Scott to watch Star Wars with him flashing through his head. It quickly dies though and they fade as a stab of worry shoots through his stomach, spreading through the rest of him. His teeth catch his bottom lip instead of his nail, digging in hard. He ignores it as glances at Scott's chest, checking once again to see if he's healing properly yet. 

It doesn't seem like much has changed, but he convinces himself that he looks like he's getting better, even if at an incredibly slow pace. He isn't sure why ― at least that's what he tells himself — but a second later, he realizes he's slipped his hand into Scott's. He simply squeezes a tiny bit and breathes out, reminding himself that he just has to wait. It won't be long before Scott's waking up, all healed up and back to normal with a smile and his constant positivity. He'll be okay. 

* * *

 

Waking up to his body trying to heal itself definitely isn't something that Scott's unfamiliar with. Still, being able to feel your skin and muscles slowly stitching themselves back together while your internal organs try and fix whatever damage was done to them isn't exactly the most comfortable feeling, and not one that you get used to easily.

His mind becomes a little less clouded and fuzzy, making it somewhat easier to think. It also makes him a lot more aware of the dull burning in his chest and lungs. He considers ignoring it for all of three seconds before he's thrown fully into consciousness with a jolt of pain in his ribs and he quickly opens his eyes. 

Hissing through clenched teeth, he moves a hand to his side to press down a little as he tries to sit up. 

Before he's even halfway there, not even bothering to try and take in his surroundings first, there's a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly holding him in place. 

"Woah there, buddy."

Scott looks to his right to find Stiles, his voice throwing him a little. The last thing he remembers was being in the preserve, sitting with Stiles, and then... nothing. He just blacked out. 

"Those were some serious injuries, so let's just..." Stiles nods and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, enough to let Scott know that he's definitely awake. "Just take things easy, yeah? Wouldn't want you doing the werewolf equivalent of tearing your stitches and making it any worse."

At the reminder of what happened, Scott looks down, scanning his bare chest and stomach for any sign of the claw marks. Unsurprisingly, and thankfully, there's no physical mark left behind. If someone were to look at him, they wouldn't even know anything had happened, which is something he's pretty grateful for when he thinks about it.

He's not so grateful for the pain that he can still feel on the inside. Healed on the outside never means it's also healed on the inside, as Derek has reminded him on more than one occasion. That part's probably going to suck for a good few hours. 

This time, he slowly and carefully eases himself up using his left arm until he's sitting enough to be able to breathe properly. His eyes dart around the room, finally taking it in and noticing that he's in the animal clinic. He's aware of Stiles' hand slipping from his shoulder, lingering on his arm like he wants to keep it there, a light stroke of his fingers on his skin, then it's gone completely.

"You sure you're okay, buddy?" Stiles asks, a hint of concern seeping into his voice as Scott blinks, shaking his head slightly. "'Cause you've kinda got this lost look on your face like you have no idea what's going on, and you haven't said anything yet, and if I'm honest, it's kinda starting to freak me out," he says with a nervous sort of laugh. Then he stops. "Oh god, you don't have amnesia or something equally as worrying, do you?" 

Scott's eyebrows lower an inch as he tries to shake the feeling that something's off. He knows he's still healing, but usually it doesn't leave him feeling this weak. 

He quickly turns his eyes back on Stiles, realizing he hasn't answered him yet. A small but genuine smile crosses his face as he fully takes in Stiles' words now and shakes his head again.

"No, I'm okay," he says, but Stiles doesn't seem convinced, his eyes narrowing a touch. Scott grins as he adds, "I promise I don't have amnesia, Stiles. I'm okay." 

Stiles pauses, just staring at him like he's trying to see through him, into his head. Then he says, "prove it." 

Scott huffs out an exasperated but fond laugh as he picks up on Stiles' obvious attempts to keep the mood light. He's always appreciated how easily he manages to turn a situation around when it looks like it's getting serious, somehow able to get Scott smiling with minutes. Sometimes even seconds, depending on the timing. 

"I just said your name, isn't that proof enough that I haven't lost my memories?" he points out, but Stiles just shakes his head, his eyebrows raising now like he's suspicious of him. Scott scoffs, but thinks for a second or two, then grins. "Okay. If I had lost my memories, would I know that you're obsessed with Star Wars? Or that you can barely even pronounce your own first name ― which, is Mieczyslaw, by the way, but you just went with Mischief for the first year that we were friends."

His grin widens as Stiles rolls his eyes, pretending to regret his decision now as Scott continues. "Or how about that time when we were seven and you kept asking me if I would marry you because you wanted free cake, and you were so sure that I was going to say yes if you kept tickling me until—"

"Okay, you clearly have all of your memories intact," Stiles quickly cuts him off with a nervous grin that almost looks embarrassed, nodding as if to confirm his own words. "I think we're all good here, no need to continue."

Scott knows that Stiles doesn't want him to remind him that that particular moment ended in Scott having an asthma attack from how much he was laughing. He kept apologizing after he had shoved an inhaler at him. 

Stiles always felt bad when he thought he had done something to cause one of the attacks, but Scott never blamed him, even if he did end up wheezing and struggling to breathe in the middle of the preserve because Stiles dragged him out to explore and he couldn't keep up. 

Still, he can't but laugh a little at the look on his face and from the memory itself. The rest of it was a good memory, that's for sure. Stiles just shoots him a mildly exasperated look but it has absolutely no bite to it whatsoever, and the grin curving his mouth up sort of ruins the effect anyway. 

"I was absolutely right though," Stiles says, his tone convinced, unwavering. "You wanted the free cake just as much as I did. Although, now that I understand how wedding's actually work, I'm realizing it's not free at all and I'm honestly not sure seven-year-old me had enough money for a wedding." 

Scott would agree but the pain in his ribs and chest stops him. His laughter turns into a sort of quiet groan as he waits for it to ease away, glancing down again at where there are supposed to be claw marks. Thinking about what happened brings another stab of pain, a little lower in his abdomen, like it's making sure he doesn't forget. 

He notices Stiles' eyes flicking down then back up, his own smiling slipping off his face completely, replaced by his teeth digging into his lower lip. Scott's caught off guard by the slight pressure added to his right hand. His eyes dart to it and he only just takes in that Stiles is holding his hand, his fingers curling a little tighter around it now. 

"I'm guessing it still hurts?" Stiles asks, and Scott shifts his gaze back up to his face. He doesn't wait for an answer, apparently already having it as he nods. "Yeah, Deaton said that it would."

Scott quickly becomes aware of Stiles' fingers tapping against the metal table but the spike in his anxiety's a lot harder for him to catch, almost like all of his senses have been weakened. It wouldn't surprise him. 

"I'm okay," he says again, nodding as he does in the hopes that maybe Stiles will believe him. "It doesn't hurt any worse than it usually does when I'm healing. Things just feel... different." 

Stiles tenses as soon as the words are out of Scott's mouth, sitting up a little straighter, suddenly alert, and Scott regrets his choice of words as he asks, "different? Like a bad different? You know, like an I'm-not-healing-as-quickly type of different? Or an I-feel-weirdly-weaker type of different? Or—" 

"Just different," Scott cuts him off. "It's nothing to worry about, Stiles, I promise. It's probably just because I've never been hurt by that type of thing before, so I'm not used to what it feels like to heal from an injury caused by one." 

Stiles seems to relax at least a little bit at that but he doesn't look completely convinced as he leans back in the chair, nodding slowly. Scott's eyebrows lower an inch or two. He wonders how long he was unconscious for, and just how much of that time Stiles spent here with him in that chair that he obviously moved closer to sit with him.

His eyes drift over him, discreetly taking in his appearance. He's still in the same clothes as he was in the preserve, minus the plaid shirt, so either he hasn't been out for that long or Stiles just hasn't gone home at all. He almost thinks he spots traces of blood stuck underneath a few of his nails, but the rest of his hands seem fine. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he's been crying. Scott's stomach drops at that thought. 

Stiles catches him staring before he has a chance to look away. He sends him a small smile that's barely there at all, the traces of worry still visible through it, but Scott takes it. He gives Stiles' hand a light squeeze in response, then turns away from him, glancing around the clinic again. It takes him a second to figure out what exactly it is that's tugging at the back of his mind, telling him he should be questioning something. 

"Wait, where's Liam?" he asks, the calm that had been settling throughout him vanishing and replaced by a surge of worry. "And Derek? They weren't with us when I passed out." 

Stiles sighs, then waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the door leading to the reception area before dropping it back onto the arm of the chair. "They left about an hour and a half ago to go meet up with everyone else. Isaac said that they're trying to come up with a plan on how to track down whatever it was that attacked us, but Derek barely remembers anything about them other than what Peter's told him, and no one trusts Peter, so," he gives a one-shouldered shrug as if to say 'oh well, we're screwed', "they've got nothing so far."

"Well, let's go then," Scott says without missing a beat. "We can help since we got a better look at them than the others did, and one gave me a pretty good idea as to why they're after Derek and Peter." 

He's already swung one leg over the side of the metal table before he's done talking. He's about to do the same with the other one but then the chair's scraping against the ground and Stiles is standing up, barely having to move a few inches to the right to be standing in front of him, and therefore blocking his path to get down unless he wants to leave himself with no space between them. 

That thought isn't exactly one that's unappealing to him, but right now, they have more important things to do, so Scott can't really afford to spend time wondering if he should stand up anyway just to see what would happen. As much as he wants to see what Stiles would do, already picturing his cheeks flushing like they always do in those situations, he knows now isn't the time.

Although, having Stiles standing between his legs, slotting between them so perfectly as he once again holds onto Scott's shoulders, this time with both hands, isn't doing much to stop his mind from straying at least a little. He lifts his gaze up to meet Stiles' eyes, forcing down any other thoughts in favour of letting his confusion take over.

"Oh no, you aren't going anywhere," Stiles says like that should already have been obvious, "so don't even bother looking at me like that, alright? The puppy dog eyes aren't gonna work on me. It's like you think I'm just gonna forget that less than two hours ago you were attacked and almost clawed open by a psycho supernatural creature and aren't even fully healed yet." 

"Stiles, I'm okay," Scott repeats, but Stiles stays unmoved, feet staying firmly planted on the ground and his hands not leaving Scott's skin. "We need to help the others. What if they decide to go after them? We should be there to help, or — or to at least know the plan." 

Stiles shakes his head firmly, and Scott can already tell by the determined glint in his eyes that he's not going to win this. 

"You are staying right here," Stiles says, "okay? Or if you're so insistent on leaving this place, I'll drive you home, and we'll stay there until you've fully healed. Then you can drag me along into whatever terrible idea the others have come up with, alright? But until you don't feel even a minuscule amount of pain, you're resting, and you cannot change my mind no matter what you say, alright, so don't even bother trying." 

"Stiles," Scott holds his gaze, raising his eyebrows a little as he tilts his head, "we need to help." 

Stiles gives a noise of disbelief, shaking his head as he looks around in exasperation. It's the usual reaction he gets when he suggests something that Stiles thinks is completely ridiculous, totally and utterly outrageous, seconds before he either caves and admits he's right or proves him wrong. Scott's counting on it being the former, but he's not ruling the latter out. 

"You think they need our help?" Stiles asks, not giving him a chance to answer. "Alright, let's see then, shall we?" 

He drops both hands from Scott's shoulders, shoving one into the right pocket of his jeans and wiggling it around a little before pulling out his phone. Scott notes that he doesn't step back, stays exactly where he is in front of the table and between Scott's legs. He almost doesn't want him to move. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, despite knowing it's pointless. Sure enough, he doesn't get an answer. 

He just watches Stiles' fingers move as he taps away at his phone faster than Scott thinks should be possible for a human with no supernatural speed whatsoever. He pauses, just staring down at the phone, and Scott raises his eyebrows, glancing up at his face.

Then his phone buzzes in his hands and he smirks, all smug and satisfied as he holds it up for Scott to see the screen. He reads the text that Stiles sent to Lydia, then the one that she just responded with. He sighs as he double checks the words, _"we're all good here. Tell Scott to rest. And that's coming from me and Derek."_

"See?" Stiles says, pulling his phone back and waving it around. "They don't need us right now. So, you can rest and heal back to full strength, and then we can help out. Sound good to you? Or am I going to need to call Lydia for her to tell you herself?" 

Scott rolls his eyes but he shakes his head, accepting that he's probably right. He does still feel a lot weaker than usual, and if he's going to be any use to the pack, he needs to be properly healed. They can afford to wait a little longer, at least until they have a plan and are sure of what they're doing. 

"No, I get it," he says. "You can drive us back to my house. I don't really feel like sitting in here for however long this is gonna take." 

It's almost like he can see the relief on Stiles' face, his still-tensed shoulders dropping a little bit as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. He nods, his mouth curving up at the corners.

"Now that's a plan I can get behind," he says, then gestures his head vaguely to his right. "Come on then. Let's get out of here. And I should probably let you know that your boss gave me very strict instructions to make sure that you don't overexert yourself or something like that." He gives a little shrug as Scott raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in the usual way he does when talking about Deaton. "I don't know, half of what he said wasn't making sense to me, mainly because I was trying to check if you were still breathing while he was saying it."

Scott's mouth twitches up as Stiles finally steps back, turning around as he seems to search for something. "So, basically don't move at all until I'm sure I've healed?" 

"I think he meant more along the lines of..." Stiles pauses. "Actually, yeah, that sounds about right." He goes back to looking around the room as he adds, "I think it's something to do with you being weaker than you normally are. Apparently the thing that attacked you was practically draining you of your wolfy powers the longer it had its claws in you, so if you feel like you aren't as supernatural as normal while you're healing, that'll be why."

Scott notes with a touch of relief that that's probably why something felt off and still does. He can't help but look down at one of his hands as Stiles makes a little noise that sounds an awful lot like an, "aha!" He stretches his fingers out, turning his hand over slowly as he tries to concentrate on making his claws come out. 

A dull aching starts up in his hand, quickly spreading up his arm, and he decides that maybe Stiles is right and he should just wait until he's fully healed. He shifts his attention back to Stiles just as he turns back to him, having moved over to one of the smaller tables near the corner of the room. 

Scott isn't quite prepared for the hoodie that comes flying at him. It hits him in the face but he catches it before it drops to the ground, glancing from it to Stiles before pulling it on over his head without question. He notes that it isn't one of his own and briefly wonders if that means Stiles did leave at some point to go home and grab extra clothes, and just didn't change his own.

Stiles quickly clears it up with a gesture of his hand as he moves back over to him and says, "I got Mason to grab that on the way over here since he was already on his way over with Lydia and Kira, and my house was closest, so." He waves his hand again, almost like he feels the need to explain. "I figured you wouldn't mind if it was mine since your shirt got a bit... clawed."  

"Thanks," Scott says, smiling up at him as he pulls the sleeves down properly, stopping halfway down his hands. "And I definitely don't mind. Your hoodies are usually more comfortable anyway." 

"Yeah, that's why you borrow all of them and forget to give them back," Stiles says, obviously trying to sound annoyed about that. Scott sees right through him, noticing the twitch of his lips. "Speaking of, I'm gonna want that one back. I've worn it once, you are not stealing it for at least another few weeks, alright?" 

Scott's mouth tugs up into a grin as he nods. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you it back once we're at my house." 

"I didn't say you had to give me it back today." Scott raises an eyebrow and Stiles just shrugs. "Keep it for tonight. Now come on, I'm at least ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Lydia's already sent Liam over to your house to make sure you don't talk me out of making sure you rest, so we should probably hurry up and get there before she decides to come looking for us herself." 

Scott agrees, knowing that that's absolutely something Lydia would do. He finally pushes himself off of the metal table, at least a little thankful that Stiles decided to keep a few more inches away this time than he did before. That doesn't stop him from reaching out, one hand landing on his shoulder, the other hovering cautiously near the other one as if he's worried he's about to fall over. 

Although, Scott's grateful for it when his legs shake a tiny bit for the first second or two that he puts pressure on them. Deaton was definitely right about him feeling weaker than normal, that's for sure. 

"You all good?" Stiles asks, just to be sure, and Scott nods, sending him a small smile as thanks. "Alright, buddy, let's get you out of here." 

He drops the hovering hand back to his side, but the other stays on his shoulder even as they start walking, heading for the back doors to the clinic. Stiles keeps talking, rambling on about anything and everything as they climb into the jeep, and the entire drive back to Scott's house. Not that Scott minds. Stiles' voice is surprisingly distracting from any thoughts of healing or possible pain or what the rest of the pack are doing right now. 

* * *

 

Sure enough, Stiles was right. As soon as they walk into Scott's house, Liam's there, all wide-eyed and worried, looking at Scott like he's about to collapse on the spot. Considering he's been told that's pretty much exactly what happened back in the preserve, he can't say he blames him. 

After Stiles quickly shushes Liam when he starts talking about the plan the rest of the pack are coming up with, shooting him a look that Scott knows is telling him to wait until they're out of Scott's earshot, he heads up to his bedroom. Unsurprisingly, Stiles insists on following him up, and Liam tags along as well. 

"Seriously you two, I'm okay," Scott says with a light laugh that's mostly grateful as he walks over to his bed. Even if he's been repeating himself since he woke up and gets the feeling he's going to have to a few more times before the day's over, he still appreciates their concern. 

"That's exactly what someone who isn't okay says right before passing out. Again." Stiles stops by the desk next to his window. He leans back against the edge of it as he waves a hand at him. "I'm not taking any chances, alright? I am staying right here in this room with you until you're better." 

Scott doesn't bother arguing. He already knows he won't win, and if he's being honest, he doesn't want to either. 

He turns his eyes on Liam, hovering by the foot of his bed, and raises his eyebrows a little at the nervous glint in his eyes. That combined with the way he's rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet is enough to have Scott questioning what's going on. His mind goes right to the pack, seeing as how that's what Liam originally wanted to talk about. 

Liam notices. His eyes widen, and he shoots a glance at Stiles. Scott notes that it's met with raised eyebrows and Stiles shaking his head vigorously. It's obvious what it means and Scott sighs. 

"What is it?" he asks before either of them can say anything else, looking at Liam as he does. He's more likely to tell him than Stiles is with the way things are looking. 

Liam visibly hesitates, tensing. His eyes slide the tiniest bit to his left, obviously about to glance at Stiles again. He seems to think better of it as he fixes them back on Scott as he opens his mouth, then falters. 

Scott's reminded of a kid who just got caught in a lie by their parents and for a moment, he remembers that Liam's only sixteen, and for some reason a terrible liar when it comes to him or Stiles. There have been times with Lydia and Malia, and a very rare occasion with Derek, but it's mostly Scott that he seems to have the hardest time trying to deceive. 

"Nothing," Liam says, and Scott doesn't manage to catch it, but he knows that there was an uptick in his heartbeat. Judging by the look on Liam's face, he assumes he caught it. He shakes his head, glancing down at the ground for a second then back up to Scott as he then adds, "but, uh... is it okay if I stay as well? Just for a little while." 

Scott tilts his head, his eyebrows lowering for just a second. He glances over at Stiles, unable to help himself, and receives a shrug in return. He pretends not to notice him cross his arms at the same time, or him pressing his lips together like he's having to stop himself from saying something.

"Yeah, of course," Scott says as he turns back to Liam, nodding. He flashes him a small smile. "I have to warn you though, I don't think it's going to be much fun around here. Considering I've been put on bed rest by to the two of you, and apparently Lydia and Derek, there's not really a lot to do other than wait for me to finish healing." 

Liam shrugs and smiles back. "I don't mind. I just... wanna keep you guys company." He's a little more sheepish as he adds, "Mason's busy anyway, so, I've sort of not got anything else to do." 

Scott nods, but can't help but wonder if his heartbeat just went up or down. He'll admit, he'll be very happy when his heightened senses start working again, if only to get rid of the dull pain that seems to have decided to stick around in his ribs and chest. 

Stiles sighs and Scott and Liam both look over at him as he pushes himself away from the desk, straightening up. 

"Alright, well, I don't know about you two," he says, "but I don't feel like spending the next two hours in complete silence. My suggestions are a movie or video games. Personally, I'm leaning more towards watching a movie, because being distracted by a fictional character's problems instead of our sounds extremely appealing, but I'm up for whatever the two of you come up with."

"A movie sounds okay to me," Liam quickly agrees.

Both of their eyes turn on Scott, the decision left up to him. His eyebrows go up slightly, but really he's just glad that Stiles isn't trying to insist that he should sleep. He nods, glancing back and forth between them. 

"Yeah, that sounds good," he says, then when his eyes linger on Stiles, feels the need to add, "but not Star Wars. I seriously don't think I could handle trying to figure out what is going on in those movies right now." 

Stiles' shoulders droop a little, making it obvious that he had at least been thinking about it. He rolls his eyes and gives a dramatic sigh, but says, "alright, sure. No Star Wars." He uncrosses his arms in favour of pointing a finger at Scott then Liam before either of them can say anything. "But you two are watching it at some point, okay? Don't think I'll forget. It's practically a crime that neither of you have seen even one of the movies yet, and I am making it my life's goal to change that." 

Liam's head tilts a little to his right, his eyebrows furrowing. "I thought you said your life's goal was to stop us from running into danger and doing stupid things?" 

"No, that's my daily goal," Stiles corrects him, and Scott smiles, shaking his head. "This is my life goal, something that I am determined to achieve within the next five years. So, the next time that I suggest we watch a movie, it's going to be Star Wars, and we're going to spend the entire day watching every single one of them, okay?"

Liam looks over at Scott, raising an eyebrow. Scott just gives a roll of his head and a shared amusement passes between them as Stiles chooses to ignore them for the most part. They both still notice him rolling his eyes again and the slight shake of his head. 

"Great, glad we're on the same page," he says, and Scott bites his lip to try and suppress his grin at his half-sarcastic tone. He seems to let it drop at that though, and gestures at the TV. "Alright, so, what are we—" 

The buzzing of his phone cuts him short. He groans, throwing his head back. He quickly tries to get it out of his pocket to answer before whoever's calling gives up or is cut off. 

"Honestly, they say they don't need us and then they're calling us ten minutes later," Stiles grumbles, rolling his eyes, having just glanced at the screen. Then he taps it and holds it up to his ear, a forced smile on his face. "Hey, Lydia." 

There's a pause as Lydia must say something on the other end. Scott can't pick up exactly what it is, even accidentally. His eyes move to Liam for a brief moment, checking his features for a reaction of some sort. They told him to rest, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to worry. If anything, it only makes him more concerned about what's going on if they're so against telling him. 

Liam glances at the ground, his eyebrows drawing together. His lips part and it's like he's mouthing something he just heard, silently repeating Lydia. Scott's stomach twists a little when he makes out Liam's lips forming the word _Peter_. 

He turns his eyes back to Stiles, raising his eyebrows in question when he glances over at him. Stiles takes in a deep breath, his eyes widening a little, and Scott knows that expression too well. 

"Uh, okay, gimme a second, I'm just gonna..." Stiles' face scrunches like he's trying to find the right words, then he points to the phone and quickly gestures his head at the door. "I'll be back in a second. Apparently I have to talk sense into our friends."

Scott nods in response, gesturing for him to go ahead. Stiles practically flings himself at the door and out of the room, stepping out into the hallway, just out of Scott's sight, and for the time being, his earshot. He lowers his head, staring down at his hands.

He can't help but be at least a little worried. If Peter's somehow involved then it can't end well. Especially not if the plan is to trust anything he says, which has never exactly gotten them into a good place before. Still, maybe they have a good reason. He does seem to be the only one who knows what he's talking about when it comes to the people who ambushed them in the preserve, and Scott's guessing it won't be the last time they see them. 

Considering what they were able to do to him, the thought of them getting anywhere near the rest of the pack is one that has Scott's stomach turning. Maybe Peter is their only option, depending on what he knows, and if he can even help. Or if he's willing to without having some ulterior motive.

The bed sinks a little bit and Scott turns his head to look at Liam, now sitting next to him. 

"I'm sure everything's fine," Liam says, nodding as if it'll make his words more convincing. 

Even without heightened senses, Scott can still see right through him. For a moment, he forgot that Liam can still catch his chemo-signals from miles away and can smell the worry coming off of him without even trying. That's probably he's pretending to be the calm one in the situation when they both know that he's worrying and mulling over the entire situation just as much as Scott is right now. If not even more, depending on what he knows that Scott doesn't. 

Scott takes a second to respond, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he gives another little roll of his head. "I hope so," he admits, completely truthful, his concern finally slipping into his voice. "Those people were..." Scott pauses, then huffs out a breath, shaking his head as he stares down at the ground. "I don't even know what they were. That's the problem, we don't know anything about them, who they are."

"Well, they did say they only wanted the Hales," Liam says, "but their heartbeats were all over the place, so I'm not even sure if they were telling the truth. And Derek doesn't seem to remember much other than that he and Peter ran into them once when he was younger, but it's like... like his memories have been taken." 

Scott's eyes snap up to Liam. "Did he say that? That it feels like they've been taken, that's why he can't remember anything about them? Because if that's the case, this could be worse than we thought. His mom only took his and Peter's memories of the Nemeton and Malia as far as we know, so if she did the same for this—" 

"But that's the thing," Liam shakes his head, his eyebrows drawing together, "Derek said that his mom didn't even know about them. Apparently Peter and Derek's older sister were taking him and Cora out on some sort of werewolf training thing because they were still struggling with control, and they ended up out of Beacon Hills when they ran into them. Like, really far out of Beacon Hills. But that's all he can remember other than what Peter's told him."

Scott nods slowly, the pieces slowly slotting themselves together. "And no one trusts Peter," he adds quietly, thinking it all over. Out of the corner of his eye, he's aware of Liam giving a nod of agreement. Which leaves them pretty much back at the start. With nothing to go on and no idea what they should do. 

The possibility that Peter took the memories from Derek definitely crosses his mind. If it wasn't his mom, then it had to be someone, and if he's being honest, the number of times that Peter has been mentioned is starting to bother him. It's just too suspicious. It usually is when Peter's involved, but for him to be the only one that seems to remember anything about the people who just suddenly showed up in town with no warning, looking for the Hales, and obviously pissed about something. It hasn't been sitting right with him since they mentioned the Hales.

Scott forces himself not to overthink it all right now. He pushes it to the back of his mind as he glances at Liam and something else crosses his mind.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" he asks, trying not to sound like a concerned parent. Liam's told him many times how he feels about him doing that, along with the many little ways he finds to check on him, thinking he's being discreet when in reality, he's definitely not. "You didn't get hurt in the preserve or anything, did you?"

Liam meets his gaze, his face doing that thing it does when he's been caught by surprise, fumbling over himself. Scott takes that as a good sign and smiles.

"No, I'm all good," Liam says a second later, and Scott's pretty sure his heartbeat remains steady.

Then he glances down at his hands, resting in his lap, and he starts chewing at his bottom lip. That has Scott a little more worried. He stays quiet, though his head tilts, waiting to see if Liam will look back up at him or say something else. 

It takes a few more seconds, the room quiet. Stiles' voice is muffled and barely audible to Scott from the hallway, probably only a few feet away from his bedroom door by the sounds of it. He can't make out what he's saying, but he's guessing by what he can hear of the tone of his voice, it's not too serious. For now. 

"Do you..." Liam hesitates, taking another second. Then he sighs and looks Scott in the eyes, his voice quiet as he asks, "do you blame us for what happened? I totally get it if you do. It was my fault. I shouldn't have tried to take them on like that, I wasn't thinking. But, Scott, I never meant for you to get hurt, I swear, and I—"

"Hey, I know it wasn't your fault," Scott cuts him off, not bothering to hide his surprise and confusion at Liam even thinking that. He reaches out and touches his shoulder when Liam just looks down again. "I don't blame you, Liam. Or Stiles," he adds, throwing a glance at the door. "I chose to step in when I saw the both of you in danger, that was my decision."

Liam sighs and it's like he no longer wants to meet Scott's eyes. "Yeah, but you wouldn't have had to if we didn't put ourselves in danger. I don't even know why Stiles got in front of me, I thought he was behind me. I was just..." he shakes his head and the looks of guilt on his face has Scott's stomach twisting. "I was just trying to protect both of you." 

Scott watches him for a second or two, and a smile pulls the corners of his mouth up. He tightens his hand a little bit on Liam's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

"I know you were. You were really brave tonight, Liam," he tells him. "And it could have been a lot worse if you hadn't tried what you did."

Liam looks up at him now as Scott drops his hand from his shoulder. There's a look of hope on his face, like he's silently asking if he really did do the right thing. Scott just smiles a little more. 

"So," Liam hesitates, then asks for what Scott thinks will be the last time, "you really don't blame us? You don't think that it was my fault you got hurt?"

Scott begins to shake his head, about to reassure him one more time to ease Liam's mind, then Stiles chooses that exact moment to appear in the doorway of the bedroom. Scott notes that he's still got his phone in his hand but doesn't seem to still be on call to Lydia as he takes a few steps into the room. He stops just a few feet away from them, but doesn't get the chance to tell them anything as Liam's already turning to him.

"I told you he doesn't think it was our fault," he says, his voice relieved as Stiles' eyes quickly narrow, darting from him to Scott and back again. Scott quickly spots his defenses going up, watching his entire body tense as Liam continues. "I asked him. He said he doesn't blame us, that it wasn't my fault or yours." 

"Liam, I told you to leave it," Stiles says, his voice quiet. "And I told you it wasn't your fault already, alright?" 

"But it wasn't yours either," Liam argues, pushing against Stiles' obvious deflection. 

Stiles shakes his head, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he sighs. "Liam, leave it. Please. We already talked about this back in the clinic, it doesn't matter what you say."

Scott's eyebrows furrow, glancing from Liam to Stiles in confusion. He gets a feeling this is what Liam had wanted to talk about before, when Stiles was shaking his head at him, silently telling him not to. 

Liam doesn't seem to be dropping it so easily now. 

"No, because you're wrong," he says, then glances at Scott as he hurries to add, "Scott said that—"

"Yeah, well he never blames other people," Stiles snaps, catching Scott by surprise. He doesn't look at him, barely takes a breath before saying, "that doesn't mean it wasn't my fault. Alright? I was the one who messed up, and I got Scott hurt."

The room falls silent the second the words slips from Stiles' mouth. He stops as Scott stares at him, the confusion setting in right away. Stiles' eyes drift over to him, finally meeting his. The guilt that passes through them is still a shock to Scott. He watches Stiles fumble over the words in his head, his bottom lip actually quivering as he shakes his head. Any wall that put itself up comes crashing back down. 

"I got you hurt," he repeats, barely more than a whisper, his eyes narrowing like he can't believe it.

Scott's shaking his head before he even registers he's doing it. "Stiles, no, you didn't. You don't really believe that, do you?" He pauses just long enough for Stiles to look away, quickly trying to put his defenses back up as he clenches his jaw. "Stiles, this wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. I got hurt, it happens. Almost every week, in fact. But it wasn't because of you."

He glances at Liam, his eyes slightly wide now and the worry on his face clear as he stays quiet and looks between them like a kid watching his parents argue. 

"It wasn't because of either of you," he adds, just to be sure. Liam catches his eyes and Scott's satisfied enough by the tiny, barely-there smile that he understands. 

"No, it was my fault," Stiles insists, drawing Scott's attention back to him. He holds his stare now as he presses on, not giving him a chance to argue, his hand starting to gesture at nothing. "I forced you to protect us, I forced you to get yourself hurt and nearly killed — Scott, you could have died. Deaton told us that if you weren't a True Alpha, you wouldn't even have your powers anymore, and then — you wouldn't even have been able to heal. You would have died, Scott, and that's..." He stops, his voice going quiet as his own words seem to hit him full force. "That's my fault." 

Scott pushes himself off the bed, getting to his feet and standing in front of Stiles as he shakes his head again. He's determined to fix this, to make Stiles understand. Scott could never blame him for something like this.

"You're wrong," he says, "and honestly, I'm surprised that I'm having to tell you that when usually you're the one who's right." He flashes him a small smile, but Stiles looks away from him again, visibly swallowing.

Scott sighs, knowing this is going to be hard. He takes a step closer as he says, "Stiles, you were protecting Liam. I know you were, whether you want to admit it or not. This was no one's fault, and I'm glad you were trying to protect him."

"Yeah, well, it got you hurt so forgive me if I'm not too proud of myself for trying to play hero." 

"Like I just told Liam, I chose to get in front of the both of you," Scott says. "You didn't make me do anything. Besides, I'm okay now. It doesn't matter what happened." 

"No, don't do that." Scott's eyebrows furrow and Stiles finally looks back up at him. He can't help but notice the glassy look in his eyes as he clenches his jaw again, shaking his head. "Don't brush this off like it doesn't matter. You do it every time you get hurt. You tell us that it's okay, that you're fine and we have more important things to focus on. Not this time, okay? This — you getting hurt, that's what's important. You're important to me, okay?"

Scott stares at him, uncertain of how to respond. He just nods, seeing that disagreeing with him won't do any of them any good right now. "Okay." 

"Just—" Stiles closes his eyes, and Scott isn't sure he's going to finish, spotting the tear that slides down his cheek. Stiles quickly wipes it away with the back of his sleeve and takes in a deep breath as he looks back up at Scott. "Let me apologize, okay? I'm sorry. Even if you don't think it was my fault, I know that it was. So, just... take my apology, please, so that we can stop and I can finally hug you. I haven't been able to since you woke up and it's driving me crazy." 

Scott blinks in surprise, his eyebrows raising just a tiny bit. Then a small, soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and he nods again. Even if there's no possible way he could blame Stiles, and he doesn't want him to think it was his fault, this is the best decision for now. He'll try and talk some more sense into him later, when it's just the two of them, because he knows by now that there's no way Stiles is going home tonight.

Stiles doesn't seem to need him to say it out loud. He accepts the little nod is all he's getting and quickly closes the space between them. His arms wrap around Scott's shoulders and he has his face buried somewhere in his neck within two seconds. Scott gladly relaxes into his touch and leans into the hug, his arms wrapping around Stiles. 

He props his chin on his shoulder as Stiles' arms tighten just a little and Scott listens to him take in a shaky breath. He can feel his heart beating away, a little too fast and erratic but slowly returning to normal. 

"So, uh... are we still watching a movie or...?" 

Scott pulls back, turning his head to look at Liam as Stiles does the same. He smiles at the obvious attempt to try and lighten the mood a little, mixed in with a genuine question as his slightly wide eyes move between them with a somewhat nervous glint to them. He raises his eyebrows in question, a faint hint of a smile on his lips. 

"I'm still up for it," Scott says, then turns to look at Stiles. "What about you?" 

Stiles takes a second, glancing from Liam to Scott. His eyes linger for a second, holding Scott's gaze. He notices that they're still glassy and when Stiles blinks, another tear slips from the corner of the right one. But then he rolls his eyes and Scott spots his lips twitching up at the corners. 

"Yeah, alright," he says like he's reluctant about it when it's obvious to them all that he isn't. He finally drops his hands from Scott's shoulders, having been keeping them there when they broke away. He points a finger at Scott, then Liam, slipping back into his usual self for at least a second as he adds, "but I swear to god, if either of you choose one of those cheesy werewolf movies, I will personally kill you."

Liam nods, apparently taking him at least half seriously as he quietly says, "got it," already getting up off the bed and moving over to the TV, presumably to grab the controller and set it up.

Scott tilts his head, sending Stiles an amused look. He responds with a shrug and a grin that's a little lopsided but it has a spark of something familiar to it, so it's enough for Scott. 

He turns and moves back toward the bed as Stiles pauses, taking a second to wipe at his eyes with the back of his arm again, clearing away any last trace of tears. Scott settles down on the middle of his bed, moving the pillows behind him to prop him up a little more, then watches as Stiles climbs on next to him.

His attention's drawn away for just a second or two as he reaches a hand out to catch the controller that comes flying at them, Liam saying that he'll be back in a second before leaving the room. Scott follows his heartbeat all the way downstairs before turning his focus back on Stiles.

When he stops shifting around to get comfortable, Scott's aware that their shoulders are touching, and when he glances down, he notices that Stiles has a leg thrown over one of his. It's not an unusual position for them, and it brings a soft smile to his face as he turns his head a little to look at him. 

Stiles does the same and simply raises his eyebrows. Scott tries to ignore how there's barely any room left between them, just like back at the clinic. The thought of leaning in and kissing him, even for just a second, is one that definitely occurs to him in the moment and makes him hold Stiles' gaze for possibly a little too long. 

But he doesn't act on it, and Stiles doesn't question him. He just smiles, his eyes softening a little as he nudges into him gently with his shoulder. Then he glances down and Scott follows his eye line to his chest, glancing back up in time to catch his smile slipping.

"It's the last time I'll mention it, I swear," Stiles says, "but... you're sure you're okay? It doesn't... you know, still hurt or anything?"

"I'm sure," Scott answers without missing a beat, just as a stab of pain goes shooting through his chest, settling somewhere in his ribs, maybe lower. He doesn't let it show but Stiles is looking at him like he can sense it anyway. He corrects himself. "The pain comes and goes. Just like it always does, you know that. It'll stop in a few hours, maybe less." 

Stiles pauses for a moment. "Pain can mean you're healing, right? It's a good thing? For werewolves, at least, pain for me would probably mean I'm about to die if I had just been clawed by an unknown supernatural creature." 

Scott cracks a smile at the attempt at a light joke, then nods. "Yeah, it's a good thing. I would probably be more worried if I couldn't feel anything while my insides are supposed to be trying to put themselves back together." 

"Yeah, that does sound worrying," Stiles agrees, and even though something that resembles a touch of worry flashes through his eyes for a split second, another lopsided grin spreads across his face as he ducks his head. "I'm just glad you're healing."

Scott takes a second or two, just watching him as he stares down at his hands. He doesn't fail to notice him fiddling with them. It's almost like they're shaking. 

Shooting a glance at the door, he listens for Liam's heartbeat and finds him still downstairs, and by the sounds of it, now on the phone to Mason. Knowing that he'll probably be another good few minutes, Scott makes a decision. 

He reaches out gently, and Stiles' hands stop moving as Scott rests one of his own on top of them. His eyebrows furrow as he looks up at him, not entirely lifting his head. There's confusion written all over his face but Scott's more focused on the hint of curiosity, questioning him silently. About what exactly, Scott isn't too sure, but it sends that spark of something into his chest, warm and spreading to his stomach and through the rest of him. 

"They were shaking," he explains, even if he leaves out the part about him wanting to hold his hand. "And I know that when you're anxious holding onto something helps you." 

Stiles just stares at him for a moment, then he's shaking his head. "You're the one who nearly died and isn't even properly healed yet and you're comforting me," he says, disbelieving and yet completely unsurprised. "Of course you are."

"It helps me, too," Scott quickly says, and it isn't a total lie. 

Stiles doesn't seem entirely convinced, clearly assuming that Scott's just trying to make him feel better. Which he understands completely considering the many times he's done that before. This time is different though. 

"It's... calming," he adds. "When I'm healing, even though it's like I've temporarily lost my powers, the pain can get... overwhelming, but only as if there's too much going on, not in a really painful way. Just like I can't think properly." 

"So," Stiles tilts his head, his eye narrowing slightly, "like when you first turned and you couldn't control anything? It all overwhelmed you. Got too much?"

Scott nods and he can already see the path this could lead down. He's not sure if he's trying to get it there or avoid it.

"Yeah, exactly like that, but with less of a supernatural feel to it." Scott lets his hand slip between the both of Stiles' now, his fingers curling around his left one. He gives a gentle squeeze and smiles when Stiles glances from their now clasped hands back up to him. "This helps calm it down. Not completely, but enough." 

If Stiles is thinking about how much it sounds like Scott's telling him that he's become an anchor of sorts for him, he doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't need to either. Scott can see it on his face, subtle enough to not make it obvious to anyone who hasn't known him for fourteen years. 

He nods slowly, like he's taking it in, storing it all away in the back of his mind for the future. Just in case. 

The room goes quiet, neither of them saying anything else. Scott wants to, but he isn't sure what, and if any of the things he has lingering in the front of his mind would even be a good idea to say out loud right now. He happily lets his focus drift to their hands. 

A surge of surprise hits him and is quickly followed by a smile as he watches Stiles lace their fingers together. It's been a while since they've done anything like this, even something as simple as holding hands. The best they've been getting lately is grabbing at arms and wrists to pull each other away from danger. But this is familiar, something simple that Scott used to love and is realizing he definitely still does. 

"I wish I could take some of your pain," Stiles says, breaking the comfortable silence that had been settling and catching Scott off-guard. His eyes are focused on their hands as Scott looks up at him, a frown already starting to settle on his face. "I've seen you guys do it so many times that it looks easy. I'm still trying to figure out how exactly Hayden did it though."

Scott stops himself from jumping right into telling Stiles that he doesn't need powers to help. He's said it so many times that he's practically got it rehearsed in his head and ready to go at this point, but that doesn't mean it's not still true. It's just that he's not sure it's necessary this time. 

"Well, she is a werewolf," Scott says, deciding to roll with the conversation and see where things end up. He shrugs. "It makes sense that she can take pain like any other—" 

"No, no, I get that," Stiles cuts him off, waving his other hand. "I just meant that I thought it was like... I don't know, strictly a hand thing, which, now that I'm saying it sounds really weird." 

Scott's lips twitch up at the corners in amusement. "What do you mean?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes but lifts his head now to properly look at Scott as he explains. "I thought that you could only take pain by touching them. As in, with your hands. But Hayden didn't do that with Liam when we needed to trigger his healing, and it just surprised me. Although, I was mostly surprised that she didn't go down the whole breaking-his-arm route sort of thing like you guys seem to prefer." 

"It's sometimes the quickest way to do it," Scott says with a grin, but Stiles just raises his eyebrows. Scott brushes it off, his grin settling into a smile. "How did she do it then?" 

Stiles doesn't answer right away. His eyes move over Scott's face, a thoughtful, calculating look flashing across his own. It's the same look he gets right before he makes a decision and jumps into something reckless before Scott can even try and talk him out of it. Sometimes, he's glad he doesn't get the chance, and others, he definitely wishes he had at least a second to try and be more insistent.

This time, that look has his stomach turning and swooping. His heartbeat picks up a few notches in speed like it's trying to escape his chest. There's just something about the look in Stiles' eyes and the way that his thumb's gently stroking over the back of Scott's hand. It's doing something to his head and the thought of kissing him pushes its way back to the front of his mind.

"Like this," Stiles says, his voice soft, quiet.

Then he leans in and Scott isn't sure if maybe he lets himself lean forward just a tiny bit to meet him, a part of him hoping that he knew what his next move was. Even if he does, the feeling of Stiles' lips on his still catches him by surprise. Maybe it's the tentativeness of it, the way that Stiles almost tenses the second that he kisses him that has Scott able to think clearly again within a second.

With only the faintest hint of hesitation lingering, Scott presses forward just a little, kissing him back. It's purely to test the waters, to see what Stiles will do so that he has some idea of what's coming next. Maybe also because he knows this might be his one chance to kiss him and he isn't going to just let it go without trying.

The relief hits him like a wave when he senses the last of Stiles' uncertainty drop away and he relaxes. He leans into Scott as he moves a hand up to the side of his neck, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. Scott's heart misses a beat or two then rushes to catch back up. He gives Stiles' hand a gentle squeeze, and Stiles subtly readjusts their hands to keep their fingers laced as he strokes his thumb along the bottom of Scott's jaw. 

Scott's mouth curves up as he tries to bite back a smile to avoid breaking the kiss, not wanting it to end so quickly. It doesn't work, and Stiles grins, clearly noticing. He continues tracing the little patterns into his skin, even though the kiss is broken by now, but neither of them actually moving to break away entirely. 

"I'm glad you find kissing me amusing," Stiles jokes as Scott opens his eyes to look at him to find him already watching him. "I was trying to show you what I was talking about and maybe help with your pain by distracting you, but I guess entertaining you works as well."

"It definitely helped," Scott says. It's not even a lie seeing as how his pain appears to have subsided for now. "I feel a lot better."

Stiles' grin takes on a mischievous hint as he raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? Maybe I'll have to do it again, make sure the pain doesn't come back or anything. Take preventive measures and all that."

Scott grins right back at him and nods slowly. "Yeah, I like the sound of that plan." His senses choose that moment to kick back in for a split second, just enough for him to strain his ears enough to catch something. "But later. We have a movie to watch right now." 

Stiles is opening his mouth to protest, some excuse probably already on the tip of his tongue and almost convincing enough to persuade Scott. Almost. Before he can get one word of it out though, Liam walks back into the room, a smile on his face as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. 

"Everything okay?" Scott asks him, while Stiles slumps a little, obviously knowing he's not going to win this one now. 

Liam nods, maybe a little too quickly. "Yeah, everything's great. I just had to call Mason. Forgot we had plans but it's cool. He's busy helping the others, so we had to cancel anyway."

He moves back over to the bed as Stiles shoots Scott a look that says he wishes those plans hadn't been cancelled. Scott just nudges his shoulder then turns back to Liam as he climbs onto the bottom of the bed. 

He glances at the TV, then says, "so, what are we watching?" 

Scott lets him take the controller from where he discarded it on the bed without even realizing, having been a little distracted by Stiles. As he searches Netflix, Scott notices that Stiles hasn't let go of his hand, both of them resting on Scott's leg. If Liam noticed as well when he walked in, he definitely isn't saying anything about it. 

Scott just smiles, unable to bite it back and not really wanting to anyway. Healing is typically painful and slow, and just one of the most annoying things Scott's experienced, but it's a little better with Stiles and Liam keeping him company. In a few hours, when they have more information, they can deal with whatever's going on in their town. For now, resting doesn't seem so bad. 


End file.
